


Tourists

by kscribbles



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossover, Doppelcest, Doppelganger, F/M, Het and Slash, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:Peter/Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tourists

**Author's Note:**

> Little bit cracky, you guys. How can it not be with that prompt? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

“Hi!”

The girl greeted him with a sort of enthusiasm he wasn’t used to from people who’d managed to sneak backstage. Excited, but clear-eyed and remarkably sane, by all appearances. Beautiful, sexy, blonde, and from that one word, he could tell, English. Hmm. Nice change of pace.

“Hello,” he answered, annoyance fading to curiosity. “Do I know you?”

“No. Uh…” She stepped forward, laying a hand on his cheek. “God,” she said, “that's really weird.”

He stepped back, less sure about her sanity now. “What is?”

“Doctor! Found ‘im. Come here.”

And then the most remarkable thing happened. He found himself not just looking at a hot blonde, but at himself. Or at a man who looked astonishingly like himself.

“That _is_ weird,” Peter agreed.

“Huh,” said the man wearing his face.

What the fuck was going on? “Who are you people?”

“I'm Rose,” said the girl, her smile returning. “This is the Doctor. This lot, it's all fake, yeah?” She was touching his face again, and she was practically vibrating with excitement, like a child with a brand new toy.

“Yeah. Ow!” She pulled off a sideburn and he swatted her away. She dropped her hand looking chided, and biting her lip in a way that did… things to him. He stared at them both for a few seconds, curiosity and apathy fighting it out. Seen what he has in his day and a doppelganger wasn’t all that strange. And it was dark, and he was a little drunk, maybe they weren’t _all_ that similar. Finally, when the girl—Rose—smiled again, curiosity won out. “You two better come upstairs.”

The guy looked dubious, but in the face of his girl’s obvious desire to do as Peter asked, he relented and followed.

In the lift that was awkwardly silent as it dinged repeatedly, counting up floors, he turned to them suddenly before they reached the top.

“You’re not vampires, are you? Either of you?”

“Vampires? No,” the bloke said, looking confused. “Not a vampire. Rose?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” he said. “Because if you’re vampires, you can’t come in.” He pointed at each of them before stepping out of the lift. When they followed him in without being halted by an invisible shield, he breathed a sigh of relief. Who _knew_ what different breeds of vampires were capable of? Maybe they could copy his face. Though, he supposed they could have killed him in the elevator, if they so chose.

“Do you want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked, leading them into the living space. The man—what’d she call him?—The Doctor seemed distracted by the things in the display cases. “Oi! You, one with my face, I’m talking to you.”

“Right, sorry,” the other man said, looking at least suitably impressed at his penthouse when they entered it.

“Look, Doctor, you can see our hotel from here,” Rose said going to the window looking out over Las Vegas at night.

“Oh yes, look at that.”

He sighed, waiting, taking off his theatrical persona—coat wig, the rest of the facial hair, piercing. Then, when they still hadn’t turned back to him, he cleared his throat.

The Doctor turned around, eyeing him properly for the first time. Up and down, appraising. No, they definitely were _that_ similar.

Peter cocked an impatient eyebrow. “Like what you see, then?”

Rose turned around too and approached him, stopping right in front of him. The Doctor began to explain as she continued to stare.

“Rose has never been to Las Vegas. Figured I’d show her the sites. She saw an advert for your show on telly in the room. Curious, we came to see it. And you. That’s all, really.”

“That’s all? You’re just… what… fucking tourists?”

The man shrugged. “I should have that on a t-shirt.” He over-annunciated, mimicking drawing letters across his chest, “Fucking… tourist.”

“How do we have the same face?”

“And voice?” Rose supplied, not looking back, clearly entranced with him. It was a bit distracting. “Love the eyeliner by the way,” she murmured absently.

“Well, there could be plenty of reasons…”

“He’s an alien, see.”

“Really?” Well, he supposed that did make a kind of sense. Or, none at all.

“Mmmhmm,” Rose hummed, getting up close and personal in a way that if he were this girl’s boyfriend or whatever, he might be quite uncomfortable with. But as he was Peter Vincent, he didn’t mind it one bit. “Has had lots of bodies, him.”

“Has he?” he asked, not able to stop his voice from dropping to the same low register as Rose’s. Shaking himself from the thickening trance of arousal he raised his eyes to the man a few feet away, who was looking at them with… an expression he couldn’t suss out at all.

“So what, you just pick a human face?”

“No. It picks me. I’ve never been good at controlling it. So… like I said, plenty of reasons, maybe I saw your advert somewhere before I regenerated, who knows. Probably? Just coincidence.”

“Before you—?” He shook his head. This was getting weirder by the second, and he was _used_ to weird.

“We’re not just tourists,” Rose said. “We’re on our honeymoon. People come to Vegas for that, don’t they?”

“Rose,” the Doctor said, “I told you on that planet, the marriage—”

She held up her hand. “We’re on our honeymoon,” she insisted. “And the Doctor said I could do _anything_ I wanted.”

He glanced again at the Doctor. Definitely a possessive, jealous look in his eyes he was doing his best to control for the girl’s sake. Rose’s hand slipped onto Peter’s chest, grazing a nipple, settling over his heart, now speeding up. Oh what the hell? When could he ever tell THIS story if he didn’t go for it?

“Honeymoon?” he said, looking down at her, turning on the full force of his charm. “Well that's a shame. Locking up a girl like you with matrimony.”

“Oi! Do you mind not flirting with my... wife,” the Doctor said.

He snorted. That ship had sailed hadn’t it? This Rose here, seemed like a sure thing. He was half ready to toss the guy his tv remote and drag her to the bedroom. But the Doctor…

“Why?” Peter drawled, “You feeling left out?”

“Hah!” barked the Doctor, eyes unexpectedly twinkling with amusement, and if Peter wasn’t mistaken, his own hint of flirtatiousness. Wow, turn on a dime, did this guy’s moods. “Oh, look at that, is that Midori?” he asked, moving quite suddenly to the bar. “Been ages since I’ve had that.”

And that was apparently the cue Rose had been waiting for. The girl, practically already in his arms, launched herself at him and attacked his lips. Surprised for a moment, he quickly recovered and gave as good as he got. She moaned against him, sending an overwhelming bolt of lust straight to his cock. He grabbed her arse over her pretty flowery sundress and pushed his hips into hers. She giggled and disengaged from him, stepping back. His eyes flew over her shoulder, and there stood the Doctor, watching them with a dark gaze, occupying the same spot he had moments ago, only this time slowly sipping the green nectar from a glass in his hand, his lines and angles brought into relief by the glowing city lights behind him. Jesus, is that what _he_ looked like? He was damned sexy.

Rose pulling her dress over her head and kicking off her sandals drew his attention back to the girl in front of him. As he watched, she slowly removed her bra, then, biting her lip again—god help him—stepped out of her knickers as well.

Before he could comment, she was kissing him again, and attacking the ties on his trousers, moving fast like she thought the proceedings would be put to a halt any second. He wondered _just_ how sexually adventurous this couple was, or if this was all quite new to them. He decided he didn’t care when her hand dipped inside to stroke him.

“Condoms,” said the only person in the room not currently fixated on his cock.

“Wha?” He lifted his head.

“Where do you keep the condoms?” the Doctor repeated, sounding a bit urgent himself. Peter pointed absently and muttered.

A few seconds later, and thankfully before he could go off in this pretty blonde’s hand, a small foil packet was placed in his palm. He locked eyes with the Doctor, now standing right next to them.

“Just so we’re clear,” Peter said, because he’d recently re-learned that in situations like this, it was best to have set parameters, “You’re letting me fuck your wife.”

The other man considered, his neck tense, his jaw working without any sound for a moment before a squeaky, “Yeah,” came out. He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said more convincingly. Then the Doctor moved behind him and Peter felt the other man’s hands on his hips. “Yes,” the Doctor repeated. “If I can fuck you.”

Peter’s eyes widened as those hands roughly tugged at his trousers. Well, he thought, as the three of them began to tumble to the rug, an identical alien and his wife? Stranger things have—no, stranger things have probably _never_ happened.

\- - -

He came embarrassingly quickly. Could anyone blame him? Arguably the sexiest bloke he'd ever fucked, stroking him from inside with what felt like a glorious cock, beautiful woman and tight, wet pussy wrapped around his? He was only human. But he'd be damned if he left these two wanting.

“Hang on, hang on,” he muttered, fighting through the lethargy. The Doctor paused for a moment, pulling back long enough for Peter to shift out of and off the girl and haphazardly ditch the condom.

“Chair,” Peter mumbled and Rose got the hint, smiling sinfully as she pulled herself up onto the low chair.

Immediately he crawled towards her on his knees and wrapped his arms around her thighs, burying his head between them. Ah, this. He _loved_ this, he thought as he lapped at her, ignoring the leftover hint of latex. Ginger hadn't cared for oral, and though he'd fucked Amy a couple times in front of Charley, going down on her was deemed too intimate. But not this one. Rose, as if he hadn’t already gleaned this, was quite the goer, moaning, and writhing and calling to God and her Doctor. And when said Doctor pushed back into him, damn if he didn't start to get hard again.

Rose came, pulling fiercely at his hair, and he could swear his now neglected cock twitched in response. She made soft, contented noises as her body relaxed, stroking the smoothly shaved skin on his cheek where on _her_ man lay scratchy sideburns. And then he just held on, pillowing his head against her as the Doctor sped up his thrusts behind him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, gritting his teeth.

“Doctor,” Rose said softly, like she was reminding him of something.

“Oh fine,” he heard the Doctor mutter.

And then to his immense relief, Peter felt one of the hands that had been clutching his hips reach for his cock and begin stroking him in time.

He lasted a bit longer this round, coming over the Doctors talented fingers only seconds after the other man.

He fell from Rose’s lap onto the floor in a boneless heap.

Well… That had certainly been interesting. Really, just some pretty amazing three-way sex (which he’d had more than his fair share of)... once you got past the face thing, which there was really no way of getting past. He was still trying to wrap his head around it. He wondered where that glass of Midori had been set down…

“Huh,” the Doctor said again, curiously, stroking his other hand down Peter’s back.

“What?” Peter mumbled.

“No mole.”

 

FIN


End file.
